


this magnetic force of a man

by smithens



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Attraction, Developing Relationship, Drabble Sequence, During Canon, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Prickly Sensitive Thomas Barrow, Very Cautious Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens
Summary: Richard Ellis has always fallen in love hard and fast.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 35
Kudos: 202





	this magnetic force of a man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarthNickels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthNickels/gifts).



> title from [lover by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvUAzpn48xA).

Downton Abbey is as beautiful a building as its estate — he'd spent the drive in looking out at the farmland, gold and green and breathing. City boy though he may be, Richard Ellis has always cared for the country.

His company's not nearly so taken with the place as he is, not that they'd let on if they were. The two of them breeze past the butler and through the doors; as he follows, Richard's sure to give him a smile. Poor man doubtless doesn't know what he's in for.

He's also about forty years younger than expected, and _handsome._

*

"Is he often ill?"

The lift in his brow, the tilt of his head, the curious press of his lips… owing to these things, Richard figures the jab is good natured, and he laughs. "No."

The butler makes no attempt to hide his amusement: he's smug, despite having no right to be where one's station is concerned, and he laughs along. That smirk is thrilling, and as he leaves the room Richard feels his heartbeat speed in his chest; in his head there is a tingling sensation that reminds him, of all things, of how he feels when —

— oh, _no._

*

Richard's decided already that at Downton he's going to be taking full advantage of being in the country. It's the last item on the list, the final fiefdom to conquer, and since the rest of his colleagues have treated the tour as an extended holiday, it's time he gets what he's earned.

Doing nothing in the servants' hall seems as good a start as any.

While the footmen and kitchen maids bustle about from the scullery to the kitchen to the servery, he tries to coax himself out of whatever the hell has come over him about the damn butler.

*

He spends the servants' supper in agony, of course, not in the least because he feels the need to make up for Lawton's impolite silence. Never have the toes at Downton Abbey been trod upon before as they're about to be, and if no one else is going to soften the blow then he'll do his damndest, but… 

He's seated next to Mr Barrow. Lawton's across from him, the change in the table hierarchy has already ruffled plenty of feathers, but _he is seated next to Mr Barrow._

As the bread comes round the table, their fingers touch by accident.

*

When he turns, the man is in conversation with the housekeeper, carrying on as if nothing's happened.

With good reason, given that _nothing has happened,_ if one's looking at things through the eyes of a normal man, but Richard isn't. He'd damn well better start, though; he's getting the impression Mr Barrow could shred him to pieces if he liked, the tongue he's got on him.

_Don't think about his tongue._

"…er, Mr Ellis?"

"Begging your pardon, Mrs Bates, what was that?"

"I was only asking what it's like with two valets and two ladies' maids…"

Mr Barrow coughs, intentional.

*

After dinner the downstairs is a flurry once more — for some. Primarily the footman, the hallboy, and the butler.

Somehow Richard finds himself seated at the dining table with a cup of tea and two ladies maids and an undercook for company. 

Every once in a while the toddler in Mrs Bates's arms gurgles or says a monosyllabic word, and every time he startles at the sound of it. It's not a sound one tends to hear in his regular working conditions, and nor does he think in any other household in the country.

It's a welcome reminder of home.

*

"We didn't used to, not really," Daisy is saying. "Before, when it were Mr Carson, everyone ate separate, but Mr Barrow didn't see the point in that, not when there's room at the table now."

"The housemaids live in the village," Mrs Bates adds, "they're here for breakfast sometimes, but not tea."

"Huh," Richard says. He's still trying to wrap his head around the fact she's got a little boy in her lap. "Then at breakfast – "

"We all eat together still," answers Daisy. "Just more people at the table is all."

Miss Baxter murmurs, "there always was room, wasn't there?"

*

"…and the wireless, that's new in the last year as well. We even dance sometimes, an' no one scolds about it except Mrs Patmore, but she's only ever teasing…" 

Daisy, he's discovering, can talk ears off, but given the subject matter he's not about to complain. Richard sips at his tea, nods along. He likes her attitude, although someone ought to tell her to mind it before the rest of the entourage arrives. He's overheard enough himself to see the harm in it.

"Does Mr Barrow dance?" Richard asks, like the question hasn't been burning a hole in his cap.

*

"With Miss Baxter usually," she replies, "or Mrs Hughes or me, sometimes, Andy never minds it 'cause – "

"What's this we're talking about?" 

That's Mr Barrow's voice from behind him.

Richard tilts his head up at him, careful to keep his chair on balance. Bad habit, leaving only two legs on the ground at once.

Those always come back in full force when he's not in a Royal residence.

"You," he says. 

"Wonderful things, I hope," Mr Barrow replies dryly, and then Mrs Bates has stood and he's suddenly got the child on his hip, beaming.

Christ, this is too much.

*

"He's a tremendous help, really," says Mrs Bates. The housekeeper has the boy — Johnnie — now; Mr Barrow's off to do something he'd left cryptically unspecified. "Never would have thought it, before, but now…"

_Before what?_

Mrs Hughes chimes in with, "yes, you never do know about a man until you see him with the wee ones," and then they're sharing anecdotes about him and the children upstairs.

"…must sound rather odd, to a Royal – "

"No, no, I don't mind hearing it."

Daisy pipes up. "Are you really so interested in him as all that?"

A hush falls over the table.

*

Richard is quick on his feet. "Well, he's young for the post, isn't he? It makes for an interesting man."

But he needs to stop acting like it, if the look on Miss Baxter's face is any indication.

"Oh, well," Mrs Hughes fusses, "don't let him hear you say that — "

"Too late."

Christ, he sneaks up on people, doesn't he.

"I never meant anything by it, Mr Barrow," says Richard. "Best to fly ahead of the power curve."

"Oh, there's no need to explain yourself," Mr Barrow drawls, eyebrows raised, "I'm a _very_ interesting man."

And then he's gone again.

*

"That's not right," Mr Barrow mutters. "Should be _tourbillon_ , but they've only got nine… "

Near the end of the night, it's only him, Miss Baxter, and Mr Barrow in the servants' hall — he's got a crossword; they're helping. Or prodding, rather. Richard has to wonder if he's pushing his luck, they clearly have a rapport, but the both of them are open, shoulders toward him, easy. 

He and the lady's maid lean over the page. "Sure that's it?" 

"Thomas would know," returns Miss Baxter, keen. "Is it an 'L' that's miss – "

Abruptly, Mr Barrow stands. "Do you smoke, Mr Ellis?"

*

Thus they find themselves alone in the courtyard. Richard's careful to keep his distance, a foot apart between them, plenty of light from the lamp above. There's always a risk, and it would take but one mistake for his whole life to come crashing down around him.

But he knows the tricks of the trade, even if he keeps them up his sleeve: when they'd lit up, Richard had held out his lighter with the flame up, careful to hold it in a way that offered options, fingers just loose enough…

Mr Barrow had taken the one he'd hoped for.

*

"Miss Baxter has it," Mr Barrow says after a long pause. "My lighter."

"She doesn't strike me as the type," Richard quips. But he thinks he knows what the man's getting at.

The facetiousness of it doesn't land like he'd hoped. He looks at him, sharp, cutting; Richard hadn't expected it, and he swallows.

After a moment, Mr Barrow says, "I've got bad habits."

Something in his tone is dangerous. 

It's attractive. Attracting — Richard's heart races. _Mind don't be foolish, now,_ he tells himself, and he says, like he hasn't a care in the world, "don't we all, Mr Barrow."

*

"Ought to be turning in," Richard says. It's true; he should, although if he could sit here talking all night… 

"Do _you_ remember the way to your room, Mr Ellis, or shall I escort you?"

It's a clear jab at Lawton, who'd made a fuss going up — in his estimation only to burden Miss Baxter, at whom she's been scornful since learning the woman kept a sewing machine.

But he can't seem too eager, himself. "If you see the need, Mr Barrow."

He raises his eyebrows, stands. "Can't have you wandering into the ladies' corridor by mistake."

Because _that's_ likely.

*

"My Christian name's Richard, by the way," he says on their way up. After some thought, he's wondering if the informality earlier was cause for the sudden cigarette break — it didn't seem to have much to do with the puzzle, at least, far as he can tell there's nothing offensive about lever escapements.

Mr Barrow turns, gives him a curt nod. No man on Earth should be that attractive while they're scowling. "Don't call me Thomas," he mutters, after looking forward again.

Blows hot and cold, this one, but it does confirm his suspicion. Besides, the man's got reason to be defensive of his name and title — he can't be much older than Richard himself; he's bound to be least twenty years younger than every other butler in the country. Anyone would be prickly about such a thing, those circumstances.

"For the Lord will not hold him guiltless," Richard says, blithely.

And then a silence, excruciating. Perhaps that joke didn't land properly, either… for Christ's sake, he's done a terrible job thus far of keeping things all in good fun, hasn't he. In some ways, the day's been a far cry from starting as he means to go on.

Just as he's about to apologise, Mr Barrow laughs.

It's short, but lively.

"Why, you flatter me, Mr Ellis," he says, witty and lighthearted again; even in profile, his smile is charming. "Was thinking more along the lines of _that which we call a rose."_

"Mr Barrow would, were he not Mr Barrow called – "

"Other way round, seeing as it's Mr Barrow I _want_ to be called," and Richard finds himself laughing, too, and they keep up the riposte all the way to the attics.

It's something, being around a man who can keep up with him.

It's really, really something.

**Author's Note:**

> 01\. lost in the thomas sauce, as ao3 user lomonte would say...  
> 02\. was struck by everyone sitting around the same dining table in the hall for tea in the beginning of the film, then realised i wasn't sure if it was actually the same at breakfast after i'd written that one..... so if it was.... we're just going to say that that was because there were even more extra people there........................ iirc the only time everyone was at the table in the series was on Big Occasions like in the series finale and then the fandom wiki confirmed this but now i'm in doubt? oh well thomas is still a way better boss than carson was  
> 03\. "why do you keep having richard quote the bible in your fanfic" look. look. look...... i've got absolutely no idea i'm sorry  
> 04\. i may or may not continue this one? i'll have to sleep on it. i was going to, but i kind of like it as is.  
> 05\. as always, i am [@combeferre on tumblr](https://combeferre.tumblr.com/%22)!


End file.
